Taking Our Work Home with Us
by Kips34
Summary: The BAU team invites evil into their lives everyday as a part of their job, but what happens when one of the killers they're chasing decides to hunt one of them in turn? Will they be able to save her in time? Contains Emily P./Aaron H. romance
1. Chapter 1 A Killer of Women

Taking Our Work Home with Us:

Chapter 1: A Killer of Women

Emily was exhausted Monday morning when she walked in the FBI building for work. She spent the night before out dancing with her boyfriend, and was fighting off a major hangover. She made a straight shot for the coffee station in the bullpen, pouring a whopping six packets of Splenda in her dark roast. _Please just let this be a quiet day in the office_ , she silently prayed. She really needed a normal day to work on her growing stack of consults and other paperwork.

"Good morning Emily," his voice was close behind her, barely a whisper in her ear, "Looks like you had a little too much fun last night." He was teasing her. They had agreed not to discuss their relationship at work, but he just couldn't help it, and the rest of the team wouldn't be in for at least a half an hour.

 _You would know. You're the one who kept me out until three in the morning._ "I had a fine night out, and you? Did you enjoy your weekend?" She was smiling at the memory, but she wanted to make sure he remembered to be subtle here, at work. He didn't seem to be getting the message, sliding up behind her and placing both his hands gently on her hips, leaning in close to her ear before responding in a breathy whisper.

"Yes, I had a wonderful weekend." He emphasized the word, clearly praising her. She was still uncomfortable with how familiar he was being in the office so she slid out from under his hands and turned to face him, leaning against the counter. There was only about a foot between them now, but at least if one of the team members, or God forbid, Strauss, walked in and saw them there it would not be perceived as anything unusual. Despite her concerns, she did have to smile at his reply, remembering again their night together. He returned her smile with a full one of his own, which of course was when Derek Morgan made his entrance.

"Wow, a smile from the boss man? On a Monday morning? That has got to be a first," he called across the bullpen before joining them at the coffee station, which was now becoming quite crowded. "What'd Prentiss say to get you to crack a smile?"

Hotch suddenly returned to the emotionless, stern Unit Chief they were all used to working with. Emily knew that he was laughing internally at Morgan's comment, but that he was recreating what he saw as a necessary layer of professionalism and distance. "Prentiss felt the need to use all of the Splenda, again," he answered, "I simply found it amusing." And with that he left her and Morgan standing at the counter awkwardly.

"What was that?" Derek asked her quietly. He looked almost concerned about the sudden switch in Hotch's demeanor. _Is he angry with me for some reason? He seemed so happy just a second ago._

"I don't know. It's Monday morning and I think he is just tired. And I did monopolize the last of the sweetener, so he has to endure stale, bitter coffee." She knew this line of conversation would both cover neatly for anything that Derek might have seen between them and distract him entirely from pursuing the matter further.

"Wait, you used all of the Splenda?!" He was suddenly fumbling through the cabinets searching for more of the morning necessity in a panic. He had already poured a cup of coffee for himself and realized that he too would have to survive a Monday at work on burnt coffee. _Damn it Emily! Don't you know better than to mess with a man and his coffee? No wonder Hotch is so grumpy all of a sudden._

She laughed as he reacted exactly the way she knew he would and the interest in Aaron was entirely forgotten for now. Men were so easily distracted. She took her perfectly sweetened coffee back to her desk, setting her things down and taking a long swig from the cup for emphasis. Morgan just scowled at her, but she was truly pleased with herself. Hangover forgotten. Aaron's strange behavior and reckless display of closeness forgotten. Maybe today had promise after all.

JJ, Reid, Rossi, and Garcia all exited the elevator then and came into the bullpen area. They were chatting amongst themselves about their weekends, laughing and smiling. Morgan walked alongside them, filling them in on the coffee drama of the morning as if it was a news points bulletin. They all laughed as he whined about her "Splenda heist", as he was calling it.

"Hotch was actually smiling, on a Monday, and you managed to spoil it, over coffee?" JJ asked Emily in mock horror before laughing hysterically. Em joined in. _That's right JJ. Morgan is such an adorable little drama King isn't he?_

"Hey," Morgan whined, playfully swatting at JJ's shoulder, "This is serious. I was so excited that the boss man was smiling and now he is back to his dour self, AND I am choking on burnt coffee." This elicited another round of laughter from the whole group as Spencer and JJ set their things down on their desks and Rossi and Garcia made their way up the stairs to their offices.

"Well technically speaking, coffee grounds are only considered burnt or stale after…" Reid began rattling off his morning quota of statistics and Emily found her mind wandering, thoroughly pleased with herself for diverting an entire group of profilers from any topic about Aaron or herself with something as trivial as coffee.

She began thumbing through her files, determined to actually get some work done today and take full advantage of the distracted state of her coworkers _. Maybe if she and Aaron both finished their work early today, they could actually spend some time together tonight._ She smiled at that thought and doubled her efforts, burying her nose in the case file in front of her.

Unfortunately, her hopes were dashed when Hotch called them into the briefing room two hours later, with his usual, "We've got a case."

They all filed into the room and took their usual seats. Garcia passed out case files, surprisingly thick ones and began her presentation as soon as everyone was situated.

"Over the last six months, five women have been killed in the DC area. Kelly Armens, a 20-year-old college student from Pennsylvania was first, disappearing from campus six months ago. Her body was dumped in DC six weeks after she was reported missing. Two weeks before her body was found, another college student, Laura Emerson, 24-years-old from West Virginia was abducted and her body was also dumped in the DC area exactly six weeks after she went missing. Chloe King, a 29-year-old single mother from North Carolina. Amanda Richards, a 32-year-old nurse from Virginia. Sara Conelly, a 35-year-old mother of three from Delaware. All of their bodies were dumped in DC exactly six weeks after their disappearance. They each showed signs of rape and torture, as well as malnutrition and dehydration consistent with being held prisoner in poor conditions for weeks. And they each died after having every bone in their body broken, and those pictures I have sent to each of you because I cannot bear to see them up here on the screen again. Almost a month ago, Katie Summers, a 36-year-old dentist from Maryland was abducted, and has yet to be found."

"Well it certainly looks like she could be one of his victims," Morgan says, peering at her picture closely, "In fact, all of these victims looks exactly alike. Hell, they could be sisters they look so similar."

All of the victims were fair-skinned, with medium length, dark brown hair, styled to curve their face. They all had brown eyes. Flipping through the file, he also noted that they were all between 5'7" and 5'9" and had similar curvy, but athletic builds. And each victim was slightly older than the last. _He's honing in on what he wants. The college students were easier targets when he first started, but the ideal victim is significantly older, perhaps closer to his own age?_

Emily couldn't help feeling a small twinge of discomfort looking at these photos. Not the ones of the bodies or the mutilation. Those she was used to, given the nature of this job. It was their ID photos. Morgan was right, they all looked so similar. _They look just like me…_ She realized that was what was bothering her, and she was about to shake off the thought when she looked up and noticed everyone in the room was staring at her. _What? Had someone asked her something? I haven't been zoned out that long have I?_

"You're right," Aaron admitted, clearly responding to a comment she had missed, "Emily does bare an uncanny resemblance to the victims." So, they had been voicing the same thoughts she had been pondering silently.

"Anyway," JJ piped in, trying to regain the momentum of the discussion, "If the unsub keeps to his timeline, another woman is about to be taken, and Katie only has two weeks left before he kills her. So, we have a lot of work to do, and a lot of ground to cover."

"Since the woman were all from different states, where should the investigation be centered?" Reid asked.

Hotch pondered this for a moment before replying, "All of the bodies were dumped in the same five-mile radius, here in DC so that is the only real commonality we have for now. I will arrange for the families of the six woman to be brought here for interviews, and we can video conference in any other persons of interest as they appear. We have to assume that the unsub is in the DC area, and we can't afford to travel between six different states on this one."

"Makes sense," Emily chimed in, "When will the families be getting here?"

"By the end of today. JJ, Rossi and I will handle the interviews when they arrive. Until then, we are going to go through all of the victims' files and see if we can find the common thread between them. Garcia, I want you to start combing through all White men in their thirties or forties, living in the DC area, with a criminal history and see if anything pops. I know that's not much to work with at this point, but we will send you more parameters as we get them. Morgan, Reid, Prentiss, I want you to go to the dump sites and see what insight they might give us." When Hotch was finished doling out tasks, everyone stood and went to get to work. They all knew they were under a time crunch and they all wanted to find the unsub and his latest victim, Katie Summers, before another woman was taken, or worse, Katie was killed.

Three hours later, Emily was standing in the park where the last body had been found. The unsub had set her on a park bench, where she would be found rather quickly. All of the dump sites had been like this. Bodies posed. Public places. And places woman and families should feel safe. Playgrounds, parks, and benches in front of nice shops. The five-mile radius they were searching was all relatively up-scale. It was the sort of place a young woman would feel safe walking home at night alone. Was that the point of all this? To spread fear?

"What are you thinking Prentiss?" Morgan asked, pulling her out of her thoughtful pacing.

"I go jogging in this park almost every morning," she said slowly, "And JJ and I take Henry to the playground where Chloe was found every Sunday when we go for coffee together. All of these dumpsites are in nice areas, places frequented by young women and children. I'm just trying to figure out why he would choose these places to display his kills."

"Display them?" Reid asked.

"Well yeah. He certainly isn't trying to hide their bodies. In fact, it almost feels like he is bragging about what he's done by leaving them somewhere where others like them will find the body."

"Others like them?"

"Both mothers were found in places frequented by other mothers and their children. The three other young women were all found in places frequented by young, fit people. You saw their pictures, right? Every one of them was an athlete of some sort. I could actually see them running in a place like this." _They remind me of me, and I go running here. It's just weird._

"You might be on to something Em," Morgan agreed, "Let's get back to the office and see what the others have come up with."

As they walked into the bullpen twenty minutes later, they heard Rossi and Hotch arguing about victimology.

"Three of the six victims were formerly in the armed forces, and the first victim was an ROTC student. That cannot be a coincidence." Aaron pointed out, clearly not for the first time.

"That's true, but I'm not sure it is actually because they were former military," Rossi explained, "Laura Emerson had no affiliation with the armed forces, but she was a Women's Self-Defense Instructor, and Sara Conelly taught Karate. In fact, Katie is an avid Taekwondo fighter, and Kelly took Jiu-Jitsu lessons on campus. The fact that some of the victims were associated with the military is just a bi-product of his desired type: strong, athletic women who know how to defend themselves. None of them were active duty and we have no reason to believe that he would have known about their veteran status."

"That fits with what we found," Morgan added, explaining Emily's theory about them all being avid runners, and the dumpsites being some sort of message to other women like them.

"Ok, I'll buy that," JJ said. She didn't like thinking about Chloe King's body being dumped in the same place she took her son to play at least once a week. It felt so wrong. Maybe that was the point, to scare her and mothers like her. Emily was definitely on to something. They just didn't know what it all meant yet. "But what does all this mean for our unsub?"

Reid began listing off everything they knew so far, "The victims were abducted from different states, with no witnesses or solid leads, and it took months for the cops to connect the cases. So he is definitely mobile, and he probably has a working knowledge of law enforcement and/or a serious criminal record."

"He sticks to a very regimented timetable, which involves holding two women at a time with each cycle and never having any time without a captive," Morgan commented, continuing with Reid's train of thought, "So he is very organized, planning everything down to the last detail, and he clearly has somewhere very isolated and private where he is keeping them. We should look into abandoned properties and farms or cabins with large landholdings."

"Agreed. Also, all of the victims were young and physically fit, and all of them had some sort of hand-to-hand combat training so they were very low-risk," Hotch noted, seeming to accept Rossi's theory, "So he needs to be large enough and strong enough to subdue and contain these women, often more than one at once. We may need to consider that he has a similar military background to them."

"All of his dumpsites were public and held some significance to him, further affirming that he is from the DC area, and possibly that he gets off on spreading fear with his kills," Emily throws the final touches on their growing profile, "But his kills are too well planned, too extensive and personal to be simply out of a desire to spread fear. There is something else at play here as well. Perhaps, he keeps them for so long because they fill a specific void for him, the place of a loved one he lost?"

"And the six-week timeline is incredibly important to him, so perhaps a girlfriend that died or left him after six weeks, and now he is trying to recreate what they had, but he always ends it after six weeks," Rossi adds, puzzled by this part of the unsub's behavior.

Hotchner stood and went to let Garcia know what new information they had to aid her search. The families would be here very soon and he wanted to have as much to work with as possible before then. "Keep going over everything, and let me know when the families arrive," he instructed before he left.

And they did. They went through every page of the files twice. They brainstormed possible abduction sights and discussed the details of the statements the local detectives had taken for each victim. They delved into the psyche of each and every woman on that board, and tried to figure out what their unsub saw in them that made him want to kill them.

"They're model citizens," Emily griped, "Every one of them was well liked, successful, strong and independent. They all volunteered in their communities, and most of them were very involved with their families, had children of their own and/or worked in the capacity of a caregiver of some sort. I just don't get it. Why them?" _Was he jealous of them? Threatened by them? Or was Rossi right; could they be the ideal woman he was trying to replace, or maybe his perfect match he was trying to find? That's it. Six weeks…_

"You look like you've just had an idea." Reid stated, not really a question, but clearly wanting her to share her insight as he was growing frustrated with all the what if scenarios.

"The very specific physical appearance, the clearly defined personality, the steady increase in age settling in around the same age we think he is, the violent sexual nature of the assaults, it all makes sense…" she chose her words carefully, thinking each one through, "It all makes sense if he is searching for a perfect mate." Everyone looks incredulous at this. "Think about it. He has a specific type from the beginning: attractive, young brunettes with strong, capable personalities and bright futures. We thought that the change in age was a move from easier targets to more difficult ones, but now we know that even his very first kill was a well-trained fighter. He didn't start taking older women because it was a challenge, but instead because they were better suited to his needs. We believe he has a similar background, personality, body type, age, all of it. He is searching for his equal, his perfect match. And the six-week timetable is a test run of a relationship." The other profilers are nodding as she continues speaking, agreeing with her assessments and impressed with her conclusions, but there is one question that Morgan has to address.

"So, why the torture then? Why beat them and burn them and cut them? Because they failed his test? If that were the case, all of the violence would be immediately before death, but you've seen the ME's reports, they were all hurt at several different instances over the time they were in captivity."

"Punishment," she answers simply before continuing, "Every relationship has its ups and downs and every couple has their fights. But we profiled that he would plan everything down to the last detail, that he would be controlling and obsessive, right? So when something goes off script, he reacts explosively. And after six weeks, if he isn't thoroughly pleased with them, he kills them and moves on to the next trial run. But eventually, he will find the one he is looking for and the timeline will go out the window completely." None of them liked the sound of that, but they were all fairly convinced that she was right.

That was when the families of the victims started coming in. Emily called Aaron and had him come up to meet them since she was sure he would want to take the lead on the interviews.

He came out to the bullpen and introduced himself to all of them, and had each of them brought to an interview space and all of the profilers split up to talk with them, learning as much as they could from each of them. Most of the families had already given so many statements to so many detectives and agents that they couldn't add very much to what they already knew, but Emily's conversation with Katie's mother proved fruitful.

"And you said you were on the phone with your daughter the night she disappeared?" Emily asked.

"Yes, we talk almost every day, but that night she was distracted."

"How so?"

"There was someone else in the apartment with her and she kept stopping mid-sentence to answer their question or add something to their conversation. It wasn't unusual for her to have friends over; she has lots of friends and she goes out with her coworkers and old army buddies all the time, but she wasn't usually the type to bring a man home, so it was memorable."

"How do you know it was a man? Did she mention his name? Whoever she was with that night might be able to tell us something about what happened to her." _Or he might actually be our unsub…_

"She didn't say his name, but I heard his voice through the phone a couple of times."

"Did you recognize it? One of her friends that you had met before?"

"No, no I didn't recognize it."

"Is there anything else you can remember about it. Did he sound comfortable with Katie? Were they drinking? Anything helps."

"They seemed friendly, and I suppose he could have been drinking, but Katie was sober. She was a firm believer in sobriety at all times."

"Why is that?"

"She always needed to feel in control. I think the idea of getting drunk scared her a little." _Just like our unsub…_

"Thank you, ma'am. You have been very helpful. If you think of anything else, please let me know."

"Wait, Agent Prentiss, there is something else. The man she was with, he had a very thick Irish accent."

"Good, good. We may be able to use that to narrow down the list of possibilities, thank you."

She rejoined the rest of the team and filled them in on everything she had learned, and Garcia added the new information to her search parameters and got a list of 12 possible suspects who fit all of the parameters and could have been present for all of the abductions and disposals. It was still a lot of ground to cover, but they were considerably closer than they had been when this all started.

 _Hold on Katie,_ Emily thought it like a prayer, _Hold on. We are coming for you._


	2. Chapter 2 Katie Summers

Chapter 2: Katie Summers

 _Hold on Katie,_ Emily thought it like a prayer, _Hold on. We are coming for you._

 **6 weeks earlier…**

It had been yet another long day at the office and Katie just wanted to go home and take a nice hot bath, but she forced herself to drive to the gym instead. It was a sort of ritual with her, since she was rather young. Run yourself ragged all day. Then, when anyone else would call it a day and head home, she would hit the gym and push herself just that much farther. Her father had taught her that this was the only way to truly develop your inner strength.

 _Come on honey, just a couple more miles. You are stronger and faster than anyone else out here, now prove it._ She could practically hear his voice in her head and she walked through the glass doors and headed for the locker room. He had always pushed her so hard, and she liked to think that keeping up with this little workout routine somehow honored his memory.

"Welcome back Miss Summers," the pretty receptionist, Janette, called as she passed, "It is good to see you again. Let me know if there is anything I can do for you."

Katie laughed internally. Janette was sweet, but she always said that same thing, every morning and every evening, and Katie had never once needed anything from the young lady. But she applauded her for continuing to offer.

The locker room was entirely empty, as it usually was by the time Katie arrived here. She unlocked her usual one and threw her things inside, changing into her army camo sneakers, and plugging in her ipod. She casually flipped to her usual workout playlist and stuck in her headphones before leaving the locker room, ready to get to work.

Today was Friday, cardio day, her favorite. She wasn't entirely alone in the gym as she did her warm-up laps, but as usual, she was the only woman. This was a gym that primarily catered to former military, and as such, nearly all of her fellow athletes were men. That didn't bother her, she liked the challenge, and she could usually smoke anyone there. Jon and Michael were both regulars here. They didn't live here the way that she did, but they were familiar faces, and they both waved to her as she ran by. She began picking up speed, sprinting the last lap, like always. She noticed a young man she had never seen before jumping rope in the corner. She was surprised to see a new face, but brushed it off. _Maybe he just moved here. Just focus on your workout._

Next stop, treadmill. She ran six miles, alternating the speed and incline to increase the difficulty as she went. As she finished her run, she couldn't help smiling to herself. _That's a whole minute faster than my personal record!_ Wanting to keep up her energy level, and push as many of her records as she could that night, she stayed longer than usual. Spin bikes. Rowing machine. Another round on the treadmill. Then, her usual pick-up basketball game with the other regulars, which her team won in a landslide victory.

"Come on guys, there needs to be some kind of handicap for our little WNBA killer over here," Jon whined, out of breath and sweating bullets, "She has led her team to victory every single week for months!"

"What's wrong Jon? Embarrassed you lost to a girl? Again," Michael jeered and everyone else joined in. Of course Michael had been on Katie's team that night or he would have been complaining just as much as Jon. They all continued to laugh and chat excitedly as they packed up their workout gear and headed for the doors.

"You coming Katie? We were all going to go for a drink at that new pub down the street. Want to join us?" Jon's friend called as they were all leaving the gym. She was pretty sure his name was Kyle.

"No thanks man," she politely declined, giving Michael a look. _You know I don't drink…_ "I think I am going to hit the bags for a bit before I leave actually. See yal tomorrow."

They looked at her like she was a little crazy. They were all exhausted from their game with her, and none of them had done the sort of insane pre-game workout that they all knew she had. They couldn't even think about lifting their arms at this point and she wanted to do a little sparring and kick-boxing now too? She laughed at their expressions. _Amateurs…_

She headed up to the top floor, where the punching bags and sparring equipment was, and she was thoroughly surprised to see she wasn't the only one still in the gym at this ungodly hour. And it was him, the mysterious stranger she had seen jump roping earlier. She thought he had left before their basketball game. Otherwise, she would have invited him to join them. She liked to get to know everyone at the gym, and to be honest, he was cute.

He stood six foot three or six foot four, densely muscled, but clearly still quick on his feet. She watched as he danced agilely around the bag. Jab. Jab. Jab cross jab. Jab. Jab uppercut cross. He had good technique and each blow was strong and strategic. She admired his skill, but if she was being honest with herself, she was also admiring him. His thick dark hair bouncing as he moved, his green eyes lit up with the intensity of his movements, his sculpted abs tightening as he swiveled to take yet another swing at the bag. _Jesus, Katie, quick staring!_ She silently chastised herself before crossing the room to introduce herself.

"Hey, I didn't realize anyone was still up here," she began, getting his attention, and making him jump slightly, "Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. My name's Katie, Katie Summers. I've never seen you here before; Are you new in town?"

He caught the bag and looked up at her, an instant smile spreading across his face, and his eyes brimming with excitement. _God, she looks exactly like her. She's perfect, exactly what I need._ "Hi. Yeah, I'm from DC, but I am staying here for a couple of days, and figured I would check out the gym. The name's Charles by the way, Charles McKenzie."

"It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm here pretty much every day, at least twice a day, so if you need anything while you're in town, you know where to find me." She started to turn to walk to the other bag, but his voice made her turn back.

"Hey, I love a good bag workout, but nothing really beats having a partner to actually spar with. You interested?"

"Sure. Sounds great."

They both moved to the mats in the middle of the room and started taping their hands. She watched him curiously as he did his. He had clearly done this before, and many times. He barely looked at his hands as he expertly wrapped them from muscle memory, his mind far away. That was when she noticed the marine tattoo on his bicep. _A jarhead? Ha! Figures… Well, former jarhead. That hair would never fly in the marines. Maybe there's hope for him yet._

"Don't worry, I'll go easy on you," Charles assured her as they stepped onto the mats.

"Don't you dare," she responded, insulted, but also excited for the challenge. He smiled mischievously. _Yeah, she is perfect._

They fought for hours. Katie completely lost track of time, enjoying the exercise and the company more than she would have anticipated. Finally, when the sun started to peek through the glass openings above them, they both decided it was time to call the match. They walked downstairs together, laughing and talking, just getting to know each other.

"Hey, it's almost breakfast time and I really don't think either of us is going home to go to sleep right now," he called as she started to head off to the locker room, "Why don't we go get some coffee? There's this little bakery down the street I saw on my way in that looked good. It'll be my treat…"

She smiled and gladly accepted his offer, "That sounds perfect Charles. Just let me grab my stuff, and I'll meet you out front."

 **2 weeks later…**

Katie was setting the table in her little apartment. Her heels clicked beneath her feet as she practically danced around the kitchen, getting everything ready. Her hair was perfect. Her make-up was perfect. This dress and heels were perfect. The lasagna was in the oven, the salad tossed and ready, the garlic bread just about done, the cookies baking, and she had even bought a bottle of that white Acrobat Pinot he liked so much. She had never fussed this much over a simple dinner date in her life, but she wanted everything to be absolutely perfect for when Charles got here. _Charlie,_ she silently corrected herself. _He asked me to call him Charlie…_

After that first night in the gym, and their subsequent coffee date, she had seen Charlie almost every day for the last two weeks. He was back in DC now, but it was only a forty-minute drive from his place to hers and he had been coming into town to workout with her and go to dinner with her on a regular basis. He was amazing, and tonight he was going to be here, in her apartment for the first time and she wanted it to be special.

There was a knock at the door and she jumped up, a smile spread across her face, to let him in.

"Hey Katie," he came in, smiling, and kissing her softly, "It is so good to see you. I brought you these." He pulled a beautiful bouquet of red, white, and pink long-stemmed roses from behind his back. _Wow, he is so thoughtful._

"They're gorgeous Charlie. Thank you."

"I'm glad you think so. They reminded me of you." She blushed at this. He was always the regular charmer, wasn't he?

She led him in, took his coat and showed him to the kitchen. He helped her pull the food out of the oven when the timer went off while she was looking for a vase for the flowers. She thanked him and they talked about their days at work and their plans for the weekend. Small talk, but it didn't matter. He could have been talking to her about the phases of the moon and she still wouldn't have been able to stop smiling like an idiot. He just had that effect on her.

Suddenly her phone was ringing in her pocket. It was her mother. "Hey Charlie, I'm sorry, I have to take this. It's my mom. She and I usually talk around this time and I forgot to mention I had plans. It'll just take a few minutes."

"No problem. I'll pour the wine. Say hi to your mom for me"

She was on the phone for about ten minutes. She didn't mention Charlie. She wasn't ready to explain a new boyfriend to her mother yet, but her mom wasn't a fool. She could tell someone was there with her, and she heard a man's voice in the background.

"You have fun dear. I will talk to you tomorrow, ok?" her mom said, affectively telling her daughter to hang up and get back to her date before he ran off without her.

"Thanks mom. I love you. Bye."

She came back into the kitchen and Charlie swept her up into his arms, kissing her. "Missed you," he whispered, and they both laughed. He set her down at the table, which was now fully set with all of the food and glasses of wine. He knew she didn't usually drink, but he had poured her a glass too, just in case, and she decided _What the hell? I'm safe in my own apartment, with my wonderful boyfriend here. What could possibly go wrong? I can have one glass…_

One glass became four and by the time dinner was over, they were both tipsy. Everything was wonderful, until she started to feel light-headed, and a little nauseous. She excused herself to use the restroom, and was unsettled when he smiled wickedly at her sudden discomfort. _No, he is just drunk, and thinks you're cute. Don't get paranoid._

When Katie came back into the kitchen, Charlie was sitting at the table, yet another piece of garlic bread in front of him, and Lucas purring quietly on his lap. They were so cute together. Lucas, her precious little orange fur ball of a tabby cat, who she named after George Lucas, didn't normally like strangers, but he seemed completely content sitting there, on Charlie's lap.

Whoever said animals were good judges of character was an idiot…

Suddenly, her head was spinning and her knees gave out. She crashed to the ground, feeling like she was drowning. The last think she was able to make out through her drugged haze was Charlie standing over her, shaking his head. "You should really know better than to drink wine you haven't poured yourself sweetheart, but it's ok. You'll learn." He was laughing at his own dark humor when she slipped into the darkness.

 **Present Day…**

Katie was in the hole, that's what he called it. Really it was some sort of basement space. No lights. No windows. No heat. Just blackness and silence. She had been here for at least two days straight now, no food, no water, no light. It has been four weeks since that horrible night in her apartment, and she still had no idea what he wanted. Some days he was the Charlie she had been falling in love with, and he would bring her up into the main house and cook for her and talk to her like it was just another one of their dinner dates. And some days he was Charles, the sick son of a bitch who had drugged her, and taken her out of the safety of her own home. He beat her, tortured her…raped her. It hurt her just to think about it, his hands on her… Something she had once dreamed about. God, she had been so pathetic. Today, he wasn't anything or anywhere or anyone. He was just gone, and she sat alone in the pitch, clawing hopelessly at the chains around her ankles for the thousandth time.

 _What is something happens to him and he never comes back and I starve to death down here? Or worse, what if he does come back and he is Charles again? Maybe it'd be better if I just died down here. At least then it would finally be over._

But she knew it wasn't that time yet. The other girl had told her, Sara. She had been here when he brought me. She said there had been another before her, Amy, no Amanda, that was it. Sara told her that he kept each of us for six weeks before he killed us, and that he would bring someone new down here before he killed me. It has been four weeks since Katie was taken, so she is expecting it when he wrenches the door open to the basement and drags the new girl down the stairs by her hair. Katie hates seeing anyone in pain, but especially this poor woman, because she knows exactly what it means for her, and for herself. They are both going to die down here. Charles retreats back up the stairs and slams the door, locking it again. She stays perfectly silent as she listens to his footsteps moving away down the hall, until she can't hear him anymore.

"Hello?" she whispers to the new woman, "Are you awake? Can you hear me?"

The woman rolls over and groans in pain, barely conscious.

"My name is Katie. The man who has us, his name is Charles. I don't know exactly what's going to happen to us, but you are going to be ok. I am going to help you through this. What's your name?" She is trying so hard to be strong for this newcomer, but when she speaks Katie realizes that may not be necessary. She doesn't sound frightened at all. She sounds down right pissed.

"Melinda, Agent Melinda Faye of the FBI. And I know exactly what is going on here. And everyone on the bloody east coast is looking for us." _God, I hope that's true. Come on, Emily. Find me. Find us. Before it's too late._


	3. Chapter 3 Mel?

**Chapter 3: Mel?**

 _God, I hope that's true. Come on, Emily. Find me. Find us. Before it's too late._

 **12 hours earlier…**

Emily was running through her conversation with Katie's mom, again and again. And something clicked, something that should have been painfully obvious by now, but something they had all somehow missed.

"Derek, remember when you said that the unsub was always as efficient as possible? That he didn't waste any time? Everything had a purpose?" She was babbling a bit, but she thought she had finally figured it out, and she needed to bounce the idea off someone before presenting it to the team.

"Yeah, that all still makes sense, right?" _Where is she going with this?_

"He has a six-week trial period, but he likes to overlap the time, holding two women at once."

"Yes. And?"

"So why is there a two-week window in every abduction cycle when he only has one woman in captivity?"

"I think I see where you're going with this," he replied. _Shit! Why hadn't they seen this sooner?_ "He spends the two-week window stalking his next victim. That's why there were no witnesses at any of the abductions; he knew their patterns and when they would be most vulnerable."

"I actually think it goes one step farther than that," Emily admitted. "I think he is actually courting his victims before he takes them. Katie's mom said that she was not the type to bring men home, ever. Yet, the night that she went missing, there was a mystery boyfriend in the apartment, a man who never came forward to assist in the investigation, and who never reported her missing. Our unsub was inside her apartment the night she went missing because he was dating her."

"So the first two weeks of the cycle, he has two women in captivity and they take up all of his time. Then, he kills one of them and keeps the other. For the next two weeks, he continues his games and torture with the woman he still has, but he has extra time on his hands, so he starts hunting for his next victim, asks them out, gains their trust, learns their weaknesses, then abducts them. And the last two weeks, he can begin again with two women before killing one. It's sick, but it makes sense."

"Which means, even if he hasn't taken her yet, he is likely already with his next victim, right now."

Morgan was suddenly moving at a million miles a minute, calling Garcia to have her start scowering social media for all of our possible unsubs to see if any of them had started a new relationship in the last two weeks with someone resembling the victim type, and then running up the stairs to fill the team in on Emily's latest brilliant theory. "Are you coming Prentiss?" he asked as he bounded the steps ahead of her.

"Go. Tell them. I'll be up there in a minute," she answered, "I have a friend at FBI Cyber Division who might be able to help us identify our next victim." She needed to call Mel.

"Wouldn't it be easier to just start knocking down doors?" he really didn't want to play the guessing game right now.

"No. Katie's mom said he was in her apartment, not his. So if he is with his next victim, we need to find her a lot more than we need to ID him. And besides, if I were planning this sort of long-term abduction spree I would not use a property or mode of transportation that could in any way be traced back to me, and all related transactions, no matter how small, would be made in cash. You start knocking down doors, you will just find twelve possible unsubs that all have clean residences and no probable cause to hold them, and then our killer will know that we know and Katie is as good as dead." With that, she turned and walked out to the lobby, her cell in her hand. He really hated when she was right…

He walked into the conference room, and the whole crew was there, minus Emily, so he filled them in on the new theory and explained where Emily was.

Penelope seemed almost hurt by the last part, "Does she think her Cyber Division mystery friend will be able to find something I can't?"

Hotch almost laughed at the frown that crossed the technical analyst's face at the prospect of not being Emily's favorite hacker, but caught himself before he could. Careful to keep him face as emotionless as possible so no one suspected that he and Emily had actually talked about this, more than once, he reassured Garcia, "Emily has the utmost faith in your abilities, as do the rest of us. She just knows that having more eyes on a time-sensitive case like this one can never hurt."

Garcia smiled at this sort of encouragement from her stoic boss, and refocused her efforts on the new search. The rest of the team stood there for a moment, not sure what to do now, but were saved from their confusion when Emily came back in with good news.

"I just got off the phone with my contact. She is running the parameters I gave her and should have results here in just a sec – ah, here we go." She swiped her tablet, throwing nine possible victims up onto the screen, surprised to find that her photo, and Mel's were both among the possibilities.

And she wasn't the only one to notice. "Emily?" Aaron asked, taken by surprise. Everyone in the room noticed his unusual use of her first name, but no one commented on it at the time.

"I'm not his next target. He courts them before taking them, remember? There is no new man in my life." She was careful to phrase it such that it wasn't technically a lie. Aaron wasn't new, and he certainly wasn't our unsub so they didn't need to know that she wasn't single just yet. "These are just all of the women within his abduction zone, who meet the very specific physical type he is looking for, and fall between 35 and 40 years of age. Garcia, I need you to pull up all of their personal information and see if you can tie any of them to one of our possible unsubs, in any way."

Garcia just looked at her funny. "Um, Emily darling, there are thousands of woman in these states with brown hair, brown eyes, who go running. How could you have possibly narrowed this down to nine, err eight candidates?" Everyone had been thinking it so they were pleased she had asked.

"I know that you could have easily gotten us a list of all the possible victims given that information. I called Mel because I happen to know she has a contact inside the NSA whose work with facial recognition turned our previous victims' photos into an incredibly intricate search parameter for women who are near matches for them. We don't have the technology here at the FBI because it doesn't officially exist. So, eight possible targets." Everyone was surprised by this revelation. Emily's resources never ceased to amaze them.

"Um Emily? You said Mel helped you with this right? You don't happen to mean Melinda Faye do you?" Rossi asked, looking at the information attached to photo number six, an FBI headshot, labeled Cyber Division.

"Yes, I do. And I know that's her photo Rossi. I've already alerted her that she may be a target and asked her to call me the second she wakes up so we can determine if the unsub may have inserted himself in her life."

"I thought you were just speaking with her," Morgan was confused, "Why do you need to wait until she wakes up?"

"I texted her and she sent me the contact info for her NSA contact. I handled the information through her contact directly so I didn't actually speak to Mel. But now she isn't responding to me. It's really late so honestly I'm surprised she even answered my text in the first place."

Aaron saw the concern etched all over Emily's face and it bothered him. He had never heard her talk about Melinda Faye, but she clearly was very important to her. "Garcia, how long will it take to run through all of these women and their affiliations?"

"I have an algorithm specifically designed to do this sort of search without needing to be led. It will take at least six or seven hours to get results, but I can leave it running over night without disruption."

"Alright," Hotch looked around the room at all of the profilers who were yawning, fading fast. He looked down at his watch; it was nearly three in the morning. _So much for leaving early to spend the evening with Emily,_ he thought sadly. "There's nothing more we can do here right now, and none of us have slept in almost twenty-four hours. Everyone go home, get some sleep, and be back here at eight a.m. on the dot. We will start this fresh then."

No one liked leaving this case unsolved, even for one night, when they knew that in all likelihood someone else was going to be taken, but Hotch was right. There was nothing they could do in the next five hours that would make a difference and they all needed sleep. So they all filed out of the BAU, toward the parking lot.

Emily had taken the metro to work that morning, as she usually did, and she didn't think it would be running by her place at three in the morning. She sighed, pulling out her phone to hail a cab, but his hand on her arm stopped her.

"I'll drive you home Em," Aaron said, his "boss man" façade melting away now that the other members of the team had left. "There's no need to call a cab."

"Thanks," she answered smiling. If anyone else had offered, she would have argued, not wanting to inconvenience anyone, but she was more than willing for Aaron to drive her home. The only question was whose home did he have in mind?

Four short hours later, Emily woke to the blaring of Aaron's alarm clock on the bedside table. _Seven a.m. already?_ She reached across his body, hitting the snooze button on the alarm, and then laid there, watching him sleep. Their legs were intertangled in the sheets, and his arm was still wrapped securely around her waist. She felt safe here, wrapped up in his arms, warm, loved. She was home. And he looked so peaceful, sleeping there with her.

So, understandably, she groaned in irritation when the alarmed began beeping again and this time Aaron woke to the sound. They both knew that it was time to get up, but neither of them wanted to move. _Couldn't they just wait ten more minutes?_

"We have to get ready," Aaron said, barely more than a whisper, clearly not wanting to leave any more than she did. "The case…" He knew the reminder would be enough to get them both moving, and it did.

With a sigh, Emily rolled out of bed and headed to the bathroom to get ready.

She was brushing her teeth, deep in thought, when Aaron entered the bathroom. He came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and holding her tight. His chin rested on her shoulder, their cheeks almost touching.

"We are going to figure this one out Em," he said softly, his breath tickling her ear.

She knew he meant the case. He knew she was worrying about the unsub, and the possibility of another missing woman, especially since she hadn't heard back from Mel, and he wanted to make her feel better. But she also heard the double meaning in his words. They had more to figure out than just the case. They had to figure out who they were as a couple, and what that meant for them, and for the team.

"I know," she whispered, turning around in his arms and looking up at him, "This case. This job. Us. We'll figure all of it out. Together." They both smiled at the sentiment, and she stretched up to kiss him softly.

 _Together, huh?_ He liked the sound of that.

Their kiss grew deeper, more passionate, and he slowly backed her into the bathroom counter. He groaned in her mouth, and she could feel his desperation, his desire.

"Aaron," she breathed, breaking their kiss for a moment, completely out of breath. She couldn't think straight she wanted him so badly, but she knew they couldn't do this. Not right now. They needed to get back to the office, "We can't. The case…"

He hated the way that brought him back to reality. He had said those same words not long ago to pull her from the comfort of their bed, but he didn't want her to say them now, even if he knew she was right. He just wanted to hold her, and kiss her and love her, forever. "Right. Case. Work."

She laughed at his short reply. He was just as lost in the moment as she was, and that brought a ghost of a smile to her lips. "Later," she promised, and then she brushed past him and finished getting ready for work.

He laughed quietly to himself. How had he managed to be so lucky? Emily was here, with him. They were both so happy, together. And even though this case was a hard one, and they both knew what was probably waiting for them when they got back to the office, it all seemed more manageable, because they had each other. And when it was all over, they would be able to come home together, and unwind…

Fifteen minutes later, Aaron walked into the kitchen, which was now filled with the smell of freshly brewed coffee. He poured himself a cup, and wondered where Emily was. He wandered down the hall, and found her near the front door, her own coffee mug in hand, completely ready to leave for work, and her cell phone to her ear.

"Come on Mel," she said, sounding very worried, "I really need you to call me back. I'm worried about you. Please, call me as soon as you get this message." She hung up, looking at her phone hopefully for a moment, as if Mel might suddenly call her back, and when nothing happened, she slid it into her back pocket.

"Still haven't heard back from your friend?" Aaron asked, making her jump. She hadn't heard him up behind her, and this whole thing with Mel and the unsub had her totally on edge.

"No," she sounded completely dejected, "It's probably nothing, but I just have this feeling in the pit of my stomach that something is wrong. Mel always calls me back. I mean, she messaged me back at two in the morning last night without missing a beat. That's just who she is. And not being able to get ahold of her, today of all days, is just really worrying me." She turned to look at him as she spoke, and she could see that he was practically on the verge of tears.

He had been curious about Mel since the first moment she mentioned her, but now, seeing her reacting so emotionally to her possible disappearance, made him really wonder just what their connection was. He had a million questions, and he desperately wanted to ask every last one of them, but he knew that right now he needed to comfort her the only way he could.

"Everything is going to be ok hun," he assured her, wrapping her in his arms, setting his coffee cup down on the table beside the door so as not to spill it on her, "I'm sure Mel is just fine."

"We don't know that. I wasn't worried last night, even though it felt wrong that she wasn't responding to me. I just told myself that even Mel was allowed to sleep sometimes." There are tears silently streaming down her cheeks as she continues, but she laughs quietly at her own comment, "But now she's not answering, and she's not calling me back, and I just can't shake this feeling that something's wrong. What if he has her? What is this son of a bitch had taken Mel?"

"Shhh, babe breathe," he held her tight, kissing the top of her head lightly, "She is probably just fine. And if she isn't, we will deal with it. You, me, the team, we will do whatever we have to to find her. We knew he was probably going to take someone last night, and we knew it was a possibility that she could be a target, but we don't know for sure yet, ok?"

Surprisingly, Aaron's words were helping to calm her down some. She was embarrassed that she let herself break down like that in front of someone, even if that someone was him, and she tried to pull herself back together. "Ok," she answered simply, wiping her tears away and stepping back from him, "Ok, but I need to know one way or the other. So, first thing when we get into the office, I need Garcia to track her phone. I need to know where she is."

"And you will. We are going to find her, and Katie. And if Mel isn't his newest victim, then she can help us find whoever is missing. We are going to get through this, alright?"

"Yeah, alright. Let's go."

And they did. He drove with her in the passenger seat, their hands entwined between them. They knew today was going to be a long day, and they might not like what they were about to find out. But they also knew they could get through it, no matter what happened, because they were in it together. And for right now, that was enough.


	4. Chapter 4 Melinda Faye

**Chapter 4 – Melinda Faye**

Derek was pacing the bullpen at 8:02am, growing more and more worried by the second. Hotch had said to be back at the BAU at 8 o'clock on the dot, and Emily was never late to work, ever. So, why, today of all days, did she have to be running behind? _Come on Em, where are you?_

"Would you stop with the pacing?" JJ complained from her spot, leaning against Emily's desk, case file in hand. She had noticed immediately upon entering the building that Emily was not there, and was just as nervous as Derek, even if she would never admit it to him, so she hadn't moved from that spot, determined to wait for her friend to arrive, "You're driving me insane."

She, Reid, and Rossi had all already been in the bullpen when Morgan arrived, and Garcia had come in just moments after, headed straight to her lair to check on their search results. That was almost twenty minutes ago now, and there was still no sign of Prentiss or Hotch.

"I'm just worried, ok?" Derek replied, grumpily, "We are working a case where our unsub is targeting a very specific type of women, which Emily just happens to fit to a T, and on the morning after he likely abducted his last victim, she is late to work."

"He does have a point," Spencer chimed in, "Emily is never late. In fact, she almost always beats everyone here except Hotch." _Where is Hotch by the way? It's even more unusual for him to be late._

"You're not helping Spence," JJ put in, sounding exhausted.

"Will you all please relax?" Rossi griped, "Emily was not a potential victim remember? She said herself that there is no new man in her life and by extension, no way for the unsub to have inserted himself in her life. It was her theory about him courting these women in the first place. Have any of you ever known Emily to be off on a profile?"

They all knew he was right. Emily had an uncanny ability to see straight to the heart of their unsubs' motivations every time. And she had never been wrong. So, if by her own theory, she was ruled out as a potential target, they shouldn't be worried in the slightest. But, even knowing that in the rational parts of their minds, each and every one of them would be worried sick until they saw her there with their own eyes, safe.

"Still no Emily?" Garcia asked as she came back into the bullpen, her tablet in hand, looking worried, and a little upset.

"No Hotch either," Rossi commented, looking almost smug, much to the surprise of the other team members. He had his suspicions about Hotch and Prentiss, and in his mind their tardiness this morning might just be the confirmation he'd been looking for that they were in deed together, not that he would ever actually say such things aloud with the team there.

Before anyone could comment on this, or continue their incessant worrying, both Emily and Aaron stepped off the elevator together. Everyone let out a sigh of relief at seeing Emily, even Rossi, though he had been fairly certain she had spent the evening with their unit chief, entirely safe from harm.

Garcia pushed her way past Morgan and walked straight up to Emily, gave her a big hug and said, "I'm glad you're alright. You had me worried there for a second," and then the normally bubbly technical analyst looked down at the file in her hands, and her eyes filled with tears.

"Pen, what is it?" Emily asked, fearing she already knew the answer. _Mel is gone. Garcia found the common link, and it led back to Mel. He has her…_

"I went through everything my algorithm was able to scrounge up, and…" her voice trailed off.

"I haven't been able to get ahold of Mel all morning, Garcia. He has her, doesn't he?" Emily asked, already knowing the answer, and fearing the confirmation Garcia was likely to give her.

"I think so," Garcia admitted sadly, handing her friend the file with everything she could find on Melinda's current personal and professional relationships, her usual daily routines, spending patterns, etc. It was fairly thick, and also contained information on the other seven potential targets from their list, but it made it fairly clear that Mel was the only possibility.

Desperately trying to keep her emotions in check, Emily asked hopefully, "Have you been able to identify our unsub?" and immediately felt her hopes dashed as she saw the technical analyst shake her head slightly no.

"As far as I can tell, they met at a coffee shop about two weeks ago. Melinda always goes to that coffee shop on the way to work. It's the only point in her routine that is 100% consistent," Garcia began, looking to Emily for some insight on this point.

"Mel received a lot of the same training I did," Emily explained, "And old habits die hard. When you live on the razor's edge of death, always on alert and trying to avoid detection, for as long as we have, you learn pretty quickly not to establish any kind of predictable routines. We would take different routes to and from work, vary our arrival and departure times as much as possible, take a different jogging path each day, but never in the same order in any given week, things like that. I've actually tried almost every café in the city as a result of that little habit, but Mel fell in love with this one place, and made an exception to our rule so she could feed her caffeine addiction. If someone were stalking her, it would be the only place he could stage an accidental encounter ahead of time."

"She was CIA?" Derek asked. He never really felt comfortable talking to Emily about her past in the spy network, ever since the truth about Ian Doyle had come to light, but they needed to know everything they could about Melinda if they were going to be able to bring her home alive. And he had a feeling Emily knew a lot more about this woman than they would ever be able to find in any database.

"No," she replied, "But her parents were, and they instilled her spy instincts in her, basically from birth. They wanted her to follow in their footsteps, but she had other ideas. She actually joined the Navy straight out of high school. She climbed the ranks faster than anyone else I've ever seen, and quickly found herself working Black Ops with her own command. She had intended to stay away from the secrets and complications associated with classified field work at the agency by putting her skills to good use elsewhere, but basically found herself doing a lot of the same things under the same veil of secrecy, just for a different employer. Eventually she wanted out. She had had too much of the violence and the death, all the secrets and isolation. She joined the Bureau as soon as she had retired her command and hasn't looked back since."

"Military background fits with the victimology we've seen thus far," Reid commented, but didn't continue when he noticed Emily flinch at the word victimology. She just couldn't describe Mel as a victim. She couldn't even picture it.

"We're going to find her," Aaron assured her, trying to soothe her fears, even though he knew the odds when dealing with this sort of offender.

"What else can you tell us about her?" Rossi asked, trying to determine what exactly the relationship was between Emily and this Melinda, while also keeping the other profilers from commenting on the way Aaron's arms were wrapped around Emily in a very familiar manner at that moment.

Emily took the hint, stepping away from the unit chief, and sitting at her desk, as everyone settled into the bullpen, not bothering to move to the round table room, "Her full name is Melinda Rose Faye. 42 years old. Her mother is Sabrina Faye, former CIA Chief of Operations in the Middle East. She is now a tactical hand-to-hand combat instructor with the Marine Corps. They haven't spoken in years. Her father was Jeremy Colton, former Director of the CIA. He was killed in a classified operation in the Congo that not even Mel and I know the details of. Mel was 13 when he died; His death is actually a huge part of why she resisted working for the agency."

She paused, obviously unsure if she should divulge the next piece of information of not.

"I wasn't even able to identify her father when I did my searches," Garcia complained, filling the silence, "Her personnel file with the Bureau has so many holes in it, it might as well be made of swiss cheese. So, if she didn't work with the CIA, and she is hiding down in Cyber here at Quantico, how do you two even know each other? And how come you know so much about her?"

She took a deep breath and then continued, answering Garcia honestly, "Mel is my half-sister."

"What?!" Derek, Aaron, and David all responded in unison. How could she have never mentioned a sibling working two floors down in the same building? They had all thought she wasn't close to any family, and that she had no siblings. Why would she have kept this from them? After everything with Doyle, they thought there were no more secrets between them, and yet here was another, massive secret coming out of the woodwork.

"Mel and I shared a father. Neither her mother, nor mine took his last name when they were married because it was far too dangerous to be easily linked to him. His work as Director meant his family would always be in constant danger, so he distanced himself as much as possible. Of course, Mel was 13 when he died, and I was only 9, so neither of us really knew him all that well anyway, but we found out about each other at his funeral. He had kept each of us a secret from the other, and neither of our mothers had ever bothered to fill us in on the fact that our father had another family, though both of them knew. We bonded over a mutual hatred and frustration with our parents, and have been close ever since," Emily explained, not really addressing the elephant in the room of why she never told her team about her sister, "She's the only real family I've ever had. I can't lose her…"

"You won't," Hotch told her firmly, forgetting any irritation with her need for secrets. He didn't like that she had kept this from him, from all of them, but he understood that growing up the way she did made it instinctual, and it would take time to break down those walls, "I promise you, we are going to bring her home."


	5. AN

**THIS IS NOT A NEW CHAPTER... But there will be one very soon... :)**

 **A/N: I am so sorry everyone for the long wait on updates across all of my stories. I have been dealing with a tremendous amount of personal struggles over the last several months, and I know it's no excuse for neglecting all of my wonderful readers, but I am sorry all the same. I just wanted to let you know that I have not abandoned my stories, and I am working on updates as we speak, so the long wait is almost over. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed my stories in the last few months, and thank you to everyone who is still reading my work despite the long wait.**


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